| i. |
| Eyewitness
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| Still waiting for my saviour,
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| storms tear me limb from limb;
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| my fingers feel like seaweed…
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| I’m so far out I’m too far in.
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| I am a lonely man… my solitude is true
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| my eyes have borne stark witness
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| and now my knights are numbered too.
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| I’ve
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| seen the smiles on dead hands--
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| the stars shine, but they’re not for me.
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| I prophesy disaster and then I count the cost…
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| I shine but, shining, dying,
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| I know that I am almost lost.
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| On the table lies blank paper/my tower is built on stone/
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| I only have blunt scissors/I only have the bluntest home…
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| I’ve been the witness, and the seal of death
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| lingers in the molten wax that is my head.
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| When you see the skeletons of sailing-ship spars sinking low
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| You’ll begin to wonder if the points of all the ancient myths
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| are solemnly directed straight at you…
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| ii. |
| Pictures/Lighthouse
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| (Eddies/rocks/ships/collision/remorse.)
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| iii. |
| Eyewitness
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| No time now for contrition:
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| the time for that’s long past.
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| The walls are thin as tissue
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| and if I talk I’ll crack the glass.
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| So I only think on how it might have been,
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| locked in silent monologue, in silent scream
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| Anyway, I’m much too tired to speak
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| and, as the waves crash on the bleak
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| stones of the tower, I start to freak…
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| …and find that I am overcome…
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| iv. |
| S.H.M.
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| 'Unreal, unreal!'ghost helmsmen scream
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| and fall in through the sky,
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| not breaking through my seagull shrieks…
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| no breaks until I die:
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| the spectres scratch on window-slits--
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| hollowed faces, mindless grins
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| only intent on destroying what they’ve lost.
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| I craw the wall till steepness ends in the vertical fall;
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| my pail has sailed into the sea: no joking hopes at dawn.
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| White bone shine in the iron-jaw mask
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| lost mastheads pierce the freezing dark
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| and parallel my isolated tower…
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| no paraffin for the
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| flame
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| no harbour left to gain
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| v. The Presence of the Night/Kosmos Tours
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| 'Alone, alone,'the ghosts all call,
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| pinpoint me in the light.
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| The only life I feel at all
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| is the presence of the night.
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| Would you cry if I died?
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| Would you cry if I died?
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| Would you catch the final words of mine?
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| Would you catch my words?
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| I know that there’s no time
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| I know that there’s no rhyme…
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| false signs find me I don’t want to hate,
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| I just want to grow;
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| why can’t I let me live and be free?.. but I die very slowly alone.
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| I know no more ways,
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| I am so afraid,
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| myself won’t let me just be myself and so I am completely alone…
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| The maelstrom of my memory
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| is a vampire and it feeds on me now, staggering madly, over the brink I fall.
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| vi. |
| (Custard's) Last Stand
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| Lighthouses might house the key
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| but can I reach the door?
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| I want to walk on the sea
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| so that I may better find ashore…
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| but how can I ever keep my feet dry?
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| I scan the horizon
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| I must keep my eyes on all parts of me.
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| Looking back on the years
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| it seems that I have lost
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| the way:
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| Like a dog in the night, I have run to a manger
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| …now I am the stranger I stay in.
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| All of the grief I have seen
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| leaves me chasing solitary peace;
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| but I hold experience in my head…
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| I’m too close to the light
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| I don’t think I see right, for I blind me…
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| vii. |
| The Clot Thickens
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| WHERE is the God that guides my hand?
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| HOW can the hands of others reach me?
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| WHEN will I find what I grope for?
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| WHO is going to teach me?
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| I am me/me are we/we can’t see
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| any way out of here.
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| Crashing sea/atrophied history:
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| Chance has lost my Guinevere…
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| I don’t want to be one wave in the water
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| But sea will drag me deep
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| One more haggard DROWNED MAN…
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| I can see the Lemmings coming, but I know I’m just a man;
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| Do I join or do I founder? |
| Which can is the best I may?
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| viii. |
| Land’s End (Sineline)/We Go Now
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| Oceans drifting sideways, I am pulled into the spell;
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| I feel you around me… I know you well.
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| Stars slice horizons where the lines stand much too stark;
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| I feel I am drowning… hands stretch in the dark.
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| Camps of panoply and majesty, what is Freedom of Choice?
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| Where do I stand in the pageantry… whose is my voice?
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| It doesn’t feel so very bad now: I think the end is the start.
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| Begin to feel very glad now:
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| ALL THINGS ARE A PART
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| ALL THINGS ARE APART
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| ALL THINGS ARE A PART. |